Contents ( 18)
- Dedication
- CONTENTS
- ILLUSTRATIONS
- 1ST STANZA BEAMQUAKE
- 2ND STANZA THE PERSISTENCE OF MAGIC
- 3RD STANZA TRUDY AND MIA
- 4TH STANZA SUSANNAH’S DOGAN
- 5TH STANZA THE TURTLE
- 6TH STANZA THE CASTLE ALLURE
- 7TH STANZA THE AMBUSH
- 8TH STANZA A GAME OF TOSS
- 9TH STANZA EDDIE BITES HIS TONGUE
- 10TH STANZA SUSANNAH-MIO, DIVIDED GIRL OF MINE
- 11TH STANZA THE WRITER
- 12TH STANZA JAKE AND CALLAHAN
- 13TH STANZA “HILE, MIA, HILE, MOTHER”
- PAGES FROM A WRITER’S JOURNAL CODA
- Wordslinger’s Note
“So I was.”
Henchick’s teeth made another brief guest appearance. Eddie decided that, on some level, the old bastard was enjoying this. “From the look of your gunna, sai Callahan, you’ve lost the knack.”
“I suppose it’s hard for me to believe that we’re really going anywhere,” Callahan said, and offered a smile. Compared to Henchick’s, it was feeble. “And I’m older now.”
Henchick made a rude sound at that—fah!, it sounded like.
“Henchick,” Roland said, “do you know what caused the ground to shake early this morning?”
The old man’s blue eyes were faded but still sharp. He nodded. Outside the cave’s mouth, in a line going down the path, almost three dozen Manni men waited patiently. “Beam let go is what we think.”
“What I think, too,” Roland said. “Our business grows more desperate. I’d have an end to idle talk, if it does ya. Let’s have what palaver we must have, and then get on with our business.”
Henchick looked at Roland as coldly as he had looked at Eddie, but Roland’s eyes never wavered. Henchick’s brow furrowed, then smoothed out.
“Aye,” he said. “As’ee will, Roland. Thee’s rendered us a great service, Manni and forgetful folk alike, and we’d return it now as best we can. The magic’s still here, and thick. Wants only a spark. We can make that spark, aye, easy as commala. You may get what’ee want. On the other hand, we all may go to the clearing at the end of the path together. Or into the darkness. Does thee understand?”
Roland nodded.
“Would’ee go ahead?”
Roland stood for a moment with his head lowered and his hand on the butt of his gun. When he looked up, he was wearing his own smile. It was handsome and tired and desperate and dangerous. He twirled his whole left hand twice in the air: Let’s go.
FIVE
The coffs were set down—carefully, because the path leading up to what the Manni called Kra Kammen was narrow—and the contents were removed. Long-nailed fingers (the Manni were allowed to cut their nails only once a year) tapped the magnets, producing a shrill hum that seemed to slice through Jake’s head like a knife. It reminded him of the todash chimes, and he guessed that wasn’t surprising; those chimes were the kammen.
“What does Kra Kammen mean?” he asked Cantab. “House of Bells?”
“House of Ghosts,” he replied without looking up from the chain he was unwinding. “Leave me alone, Jake, this is delicate work.”
Jake couldn’t see why it would be, but he did as bade. Roland, Eddie, and Callahan were standing just inside the cave’s mouth. Jake joined them. Henchick, meanwhile, had placed the oldest members of his group in a semicircle that went around the back of the door. The front side, with its incised hieroglyphs and crystal doorknob, was unguarded, at least for the time being.
The old man went to the mouth of the cave, spoke briefly with Cantab, then motioned for the line of Manni waiting on the path to move up. When the first man in line was just inside the cave, Henchick stopped him and came back to Roland. He squatted, inviting the gunslinger with a gesture to do the same.